


A Statement of Profit and Loss

by spookyknight



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyknight/pseuds/spookyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through centuries of give and take, the Doctor always seemed to end up in the red. But today, with only a couple notes of currency, he just may make it into the black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time and Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been done and done before, following Rose and the meta-crisis Doctor after Journey's End. But here's my take: cliche, angst, hope and all. Maybe the foundation for something more. A huge thank you to beta T'Kirr for her review. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know this isn't what you expected," the Doctor admits, squeezing her hand. "But I can't say I'm unhappy to be here with you."

_This is our future (from what we've heard)_

_And I've still got your hand_

_It feels like we could last forever_

_And I'm not doing this alone_

* * *

  

They are let loose on London in a daze, this city that is at once familiar and foreign. So few words have been exchanged in the past twelve hours and yet she thinks, hopes somehow, she's reading the signals right and they're on the same page. Rose doesn't want to go 'home' yet. She's not ready to face the nearly-empty flat she's been (barely) sleeping in these past years. If they go 'home' this will be real - permanent and irreversible. She's not sure if she wants to face that truth.

So they wander. Aimlessly they walk through a native yet alien landscape. The world around them functions as a mirror, she thinks. The warmer-than-normal weight of her hand in his swings between them with an aching familiarity. But unlike before that is the only thing shared between them. No playful teasing, grandiose lectures on their surroundings, or comfortable reminiscing of previous adventures fill the gaping silence between them. It may as well be the Void for as disconnected as Rose feels from him right now.

The Doctor, for his part, finds himself at a complete loss for appropriate words for perhaps the first time in recent memory. His gob fails him utterly. Where once words seemed like unfashioned clay for him to mold at will, they now seem like land mines waiting to trap him and obliterate the offending breath that gave them life. He's not sure if there are phrases in any language to express his current feelings or assuage Rose's unspoken doubts. She's holding his hand, at least, and right now that is the only anchor holding him together.

With his other hand, he rifles unconsciously through his pocket. An instinctive inventory of his assets. It would be so easy to focus on the innumerable things he's lost today but the Doctor is nothing if not a survivor and he knows the only way to move forward is counting what he has - Rose, of course, being number one on that short list. Crumpled beneath bits and bobs that were crucial at the time but seem useless now is a bank note - ten quid, he remembers now - left over from an outing he took with Donna and her grandfather.

Tinged with nostalgia and grief, it's something. A small profit in a world of loss. Used the right way, it just may be enough.

He smells it before he sees it; the warm, golden scent wafting through the afternoon air. He hopes they taste the same in this world.

"Come on," he says, pulling Rose along with him in a distinct path to the chip shop.

"Chips?" Rose asks and despite everything she can't keep a small smile from breaking out across her face.

He returns her look with a grin of his own, almost giddy with the delight of causing her even the smallest happiness. "New first date," he tells her simply and approaches the window to order before she can react.

Rose giggles as she watches him produce money from his pocket like any old bloke, smoothing out the wrinkled paper absently. "What, you're paying now?"

The Doctor is still not sure what words will ruin or immortalize this moment, so he settles on a wink and a smirk as he trades his net worth in this universe for two orders of chips. His companion can't help but notice he doesn't wait for change as he hands Rose her share and gestures to an open cafe table.

They sit on opposite sides of the small table and eat in silence, but the quiet is a bit more companionable now. The scene is surreal. Shadows are long against the honeyed light of the approaching evening. The threat of a storm brings heavy clouds to soak up the incandescent colors of twilight. It could be any afternoon from their time together, a lull in the constant flurry of their adventures.

Rose thinks, her mind wandering to years of loneliness and longing, unrealistic and unfulfilled expectations, and better days. She contemplates the chips even as she consumes them. There's meaning to them, deep and important. It's continuity - one small proof that his memories are intact as he says. Then she speaks, because nothing is going to change if neither of them brings a voice to their inner turmoil.

"I was gonna run," she begins pensively, speaking right to him but avoiding his eyes. "Down that street or any street on any planet, any time. But no matter what, you were gonna be at the end of it. And then we'd hug like always but it'd be different this time. There'd be a kiss at the end, and maybe some words we never said. After everything…" she trails off, looking past him and far away. "But that was never gonna happen, was it?"

His lips draw into a firm line and for a moment Rose thinks he's not going to answer. He's reflecting, trying to pull together infinite and scattered thoughts in a newly limited mind. Analyzing a self that's no longer there. She deserves the truth but it should be delivered in the best way he can do it.

"I'd be lying if I said on some level I didn't want that," the Doctor answers in a measured tone. "But back then, the way I was - I'm not sure I could have given you what you wanted."

"And now?" she asks, hesitantly, as if this moment is fragile and one wrong sound or movement will shatter it completely.

"New, new, new Doctor," he chirps jauntily, a faint echo of words said before. "Ten-point-Five. Upgrades and downgrades. New features. Bugs fixed."

She laughs outright and he's glad because that's the whole point. He can make light of this, the losses they have suffered in this strange situation, as long as it will make her smile.

Rose nods in understanding of the meaning behind his jesting words. He's the same person but not. A little less and a little more. Similar enough to regeneration that she can almost wrap her head around it - as much as she ever could. It's all alien to her so why should this be any different?

"I meant what I said," he mumbles quietly, almost as if he doesn't want her to hear.

"What?" she asks seriously but there's a teasing edge just below her voice. "You've said a lot of things to me."

He leans back, adopting what he hopes is a casual, impartial pose. "All of it.  _Well_ ," he amends, drawing out the word just as Rose remembers. "Maybe not the 'stupid ape' bit. That was a bit ruder than usual."

Rose smiles a little smile but it doesn't reach her eyes. She doesn't reply right away and the Doctor wonders if he's fallen into a pit of his own making. Said the wrong words, evoked the wrong memory. Before he can jump in to mend the presumed damage her arm dashes across the table to cover his open hand, small fingers curving delicately into his palm. Fingertips tap anxiously against his skin and pearly teeth bite her bottom lip as she regards the ground thoughtfully. She obviously has something to say, he can practically see the gears turning behind her eyes, so he waits barely daring to breathe.

"Doctor," Rose questions in a small voice and he tries not to let on how much his chest swells with hope at that one word. "About what you said," she begins in halting, uncertain words. "I don't want you to feel that way just because I'm the only one left."

She looks up and her eyes bravely meet his. This isn't a comfortable subject by any means but it has to be brought out into the open eventually. She hopes they can push past quickly and move on, like ripping a bandage from wounded skin. The scar remains but pain fades slowly over time. She wants to be open to the gift she's been given, as Donna described it, but she won't go into this blindly. There's been too much heartbreak already. After years of doubt and questions, Rose thinks it's time for some answers.

The Doctor swallows purposefully, trying to hold her stare without faltering. "That's hard to separate," he explains honestly. "And yet, to me, those are two completely independent facts. You are the only thing I have left, Rose Tyler. The only important thing. And I love you. One doesn't depend on the other."

Her heart flutters at those words spoken so freely but she presses on.

"But you didn't before," Rose pushes, lowering her gaze as though she fears the answer even as she asks the question. "When you weren't stuck here."

"I'm not  _stuck_  here," he pulls her hand toward him, cradling it protectively to his chest and urging her to look at him once again. To believe him. "This is a chance I thought I'd never have. I told you that. Do you remember?"

She nods, biting her lip again to staunch the tears threatening to roll over at yet another bad memory of that awful beach.

"I know this isn't what you expected," the Doctor admits, squeezing her hand. "But I can't say I'm unhappy to be here with you."

"Even if it means carpets and doors?" Rose flashes a cheeky smirk at him despite her watery eyes. "And a mortgage?"

To her surprise he doesn't grimace, just regards her hopefully. "Can I still share with you?"

"Yeah," she croaks and with a choked sob the tears do spill over her eyes. "Offer still stands."

The Doctor is at her side in what seems like an instant and the spell is broken. Any illusion that this could be a moment from their past is suddenly dissolved. Rose is hurled wildly into the here and now; into a world where her Doctor is part human and his walls have crumbled before her. Though she can remember him offering comfort before, there is something more impulsive and vulnerable in the way he gathers her up in his arms in this public place without a second's hesitation.

He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before he speaks, "Rose, please don't cry."

"S'alright," she assures him, reveling in his warmth around her. "I'm happy," Rose tells him even as her shoulders shake and her tears dampen his collar. She embraces him reflexively as though he might disappear at any moment.

He reciprocates automatically, squeezing her to him firmly and stroking her back gently in what he believes is a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry -"

Rose cuts him off. "Oh, stop it," she chuckles dryly as she puts her hands on his chest and pushes away slowly to look in his eyes. "No more 'I'm so sorry' anymore, yeah? Can you promise me that?"

He schools her with a serious look, "I don't think I can. I have a lot to apologize for."

He owes this woman so much. She's saved him, more than once. Made him better but also made him believe in something again. Brought light and life where there was once only darkness and death. He's in debt to her, now more than ever. With nothing to offer her, no prospects, home, or property, he's not sure how he will ever repay her.

"But you're staying, right?" Rose asks shyly and hopes she doesn't sound nearly as needy to his ears as she does to her own. "With me?"

The Doctor blinks, a blank expression on his face, and then nods slowly. "If you'll have me," he says, echoing the same uncertainty he displayed on the beach.

Because really, it's her decision. She didn't ask to be brought back here or to have him thrust upon her without warning. Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth and trans-dimensional traveler has earned the right to choose her own destiny. He doesn't want to force anything else on her from now onwards. Not even himself.

Rose doesn't give him long to doubt. The girl still accepting his embrace smiles beautifully. "Then consider us even."

He returns her smile but he knows they're not even. Not by a long shot. The Doctor has many things to answer for and he'll spend the rest of his (decidedly shortened) life making it up to her. Still, he can't help but be glad at her acceptance and even more pleased at making her smile.

His affection for her, long brewing beneath the surface in another life, is now at the forefront of his mind. A heady combination of love and unfamiliar biology. It's instinctive now for him to pull her back into their hug and place another lingering kiss to her temple. It feels more like a compulsion, this sudden need to be close to her. Even if it does manifest as Donna's voice ringing in his mind: _hold her, you idiot_.

After a few precious moments savoring these new developments, propriety returns to the couple as awareness of their surroundings creeps in. People walk by on the sidewalk, their idle chatter invading the private moment. Rose clears her throat and - with more reluctance than she would readily admit - detangles herself from his embrace.

"Ready?" she asks, smoothing her clothes out primly.

He gives her a small smile. "Yeah," he agrees and cleans up the mess they've made with their snack without prompting.

Rose adds 'conscientious' to her mental checklist of apparent upgrades in her new, new, new Doctor ten-point-five.

Their walk resumes in a quiet now charged with possibility. His hands are in his pockets and hers are wrapped around herself. They are close but not touching. Every so often, an errant look crosses the short distance. She meets his eyes for a fleeting second before dashing away with a blush and the stirrings of a smile.

It's like being back to the beginning. The history between them doesn't mean less but maybe now the more depressing parts can fade in favor of the potential between them. Rose will never know if she could have had more from the Time Lord in his magical blue box. It will be the question that keeps her up on a random Tuesday night someday. Along with a thousand other 'ifs' and 'maybes' that all seem to converge on endless white walls and an unfortunate lack of upper body strength. What she does know is that the man next to her today is hers, if she wants. And if the excited fluttering in her chest is anything to go by, she thinks maybe she wants.

As she starts to lead them in the general direction of her flat, the first drizzle comes down from the gathering gloom overhead. The world around them changes. A dusky sky gives everything a feeling of celluloid grey. Harsh edges of concrete and steel soften and fade into the mist. Wet pavement reflects the shine of streetlamps, glittering like stars in the distance. The vapor hangs in the air for a few moments, dampening everything, before the sky erupts with a full downpour.

As other people run and scramble inside stores and underneath awnings, Rose and the Doctor slow to a stop and look up at the surging sky.

"Atmospheric disturbance," he comments over the sound of the rain, meeting Rose's gaze. "This Earth didn't move but there are still effects. As you said, the stars were going out. We brought the universe back from the brink of darkness and the planet is just catching up."

Rose stares at him for a moment before she laughs at the absurdity of it all. Standing in an alternate London with an alternate Doctor in a very real and icy rainstorm. He frowns in confusion at first before he gives up and joins her.

Laughing, the Doctor grabs her hand and meets her eyes.

The "run" is implied.


	2. Alone with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looks up to find him hovering in the doorway like a wraith, drenched and disheveled, afraid to step into her personal space but unwilling to back away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you again to beta T'Kirr for the invaluable insight.

 

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am home again_

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am whole again_

* * *

   

They tumble through the door into Rose's flat, soaked to the bone and still laughing like idiots. Lost to their delirium, they scramble through the too-tight space that is the foyer hallway, close and clinging.

"You're all wet," Rose blurts out unnecessarily, maybe just for something to say. Because they're here now and running all the way in the rain she didn't think to prepare herself for this moment.

The Doctor quirks an eyebrow and looks her up and down in an exaggerated fashion. "As are you, Rose Tyler," he points out, emphasizing her name in his familiar way.

There's no innuendo behind his words and the smile he gives her is all innocent affection. Right now, she's more glad than disappointed because she's not sure she could deal with any more tension. They are alone now, in this place where it's quiet and she has space to think. But she doesn't want to think. Because all roads of thought inevitably will lead back to the beach and the one who left them there and why she should probably be angry instead of happy, sad instead of hopeful.

She clears her throat, breaking the silence, "No, I mean, we should get changed."

Taking command of the situation, something she's learned in these years on her own, Rose backs up slowly toward the bedroom, giving him every opportunity to follow her.

"Sorry, the place is kind of a mess," she apologizes as she disappears through an open door.

Her room is a bit tousled, but not to the extent that the Doctor would expect. Unlike her room on the TARDIS, this space is less a willful disregard of tidiness and speaks more of a distracted neglect. This isn't just a home that Rose recently decided she wasn't coming back to, it's a place she's never even tried to belong.

"I think I have some clothes for you," she calls over the commotion as she rifles through dresser drawers. "They won't fit perfect, but you know, just for tonight. Mickey and Jake would crash here sometimes when they were too drunk to get back to their own place so they left some stuff behind."

Rose knows she doesn't really owe him an explanation. He said goodbye and she was free to move on with her life as she saw fit. But somewhere deep down, she feels compelled to make him understand there was never anyone else.

She looks up to find him hovering in the doorway like a wraith, drenched and disheveled, afraid to step into her personal space but unwilling to back away. The walls are too narrow and the light is all wrong. He doesn't look right, brooding sullenly in the sallow yellow din of eco-bulb lamps. He should be bouncing in the vibrant green glow of the console room or dashing at a full sprint under a glitter of unfamiliar stars.

Rose blinks, breaking herself out of the melancholic reverie. Regardless of where they have been or should be, he's here now and she's pretty sure even a part-human can get pneumonia.

She rises to her feet and proffers the bundle of clothes to him, flipping a dripping lock of hair out of her face sassily. "Yeah, sorry. All out of jim-jams with fruit in the pockets."

He smirks in response, "Pity, that."

"But don't worry, they're clean," she assures him.

"Thank you," he tells her but the words fall short of the mark. Without hesitation, Rose has invited him into her life and opened her personal space to him. He's so grateful but he's not sure how to show her. Not yet.

"Right, I'll just get you a towel," she mumbles quietly, almost wincing at the awkward halt in her words.

She ducks into the bathroom and throws the blue terrycloth linen to him from across the room, managing a small smile before closing herself in the en suite.

Left alone, the Doctor waits to hear the rustle of Rose shuffling out of her own wet garments before moving into the room.

Laying the bundle of clothes down on the bed, he quickly empties the important contents of various pockets onto a nearby dresser before divesting his suit. One sonic screwdriver, stolen -  _well_ , borrowed.  _Well_ , spoilers, because really it's just another prophecy fulfilled. He remembers the upgraded model he (brilliantly) used to rescue River Song in the Library so really he's just helping the process along.

And one TARDIS coral, a decision and a conversation for another day. The small piece affords a comforting hum reminiscent of the intimate connection, but not strong enough to fill the aching hollow left behind by the ship herself. A wound that will lessen but never fully heal.

The Doctor rushes through the mundane motions of drying off and changing to be sure he finishes before Rose returns. His fingers feel cold against his body as he maneuvers the clothes carefully to avoid contact. One heart apparently means equivalent warmth doesn't always reach the extremities, a new 'feature' he doesn't particularly relish. He files it away for later, when he feels comfortable enough in his own skin to complain about such trivialities.

"Doctor?" Rose calls to him cautiously from behind the cracked door and his heart soars again at her apparent acceptance of his identity. He's lucky, so lucky, because this could have gone differently - a hundred thousand different ways - and in so many of those alternate outcomes he knows he'd have ended up rejected, heartbroken, and alone.

"All done," he answers because he thinks that's what she's asking after.

It seems he's right when she comes out from behind the door in an oversized sleep shirt and little pyjama shorts that should be considered illegal (and probably are, on at least seventy planets if the same customs hold true in this universe.)

She doesn't ignore him, per say, but doesn't really acknowledge him either as she turns over the covers on her bed. Rose is tired and when she says tired, she means so far beyond the weary, exhausted feeling pulling at her bones. She's tired of fighting and doubting and in this moment she doesn't want to talk it out or worry or compromise. She wants to sleep without letting him out of her sight, to close her eyes without fearing he'll disappear and she'll awake tomorrow with this all having been another nightmare.

So she doesn't invite him into her bed with words so much as she turns down the covers on the opposite side too and looks at him pointedly, saying simply, "Will you get the lights?"

He nods dumbly and backs up to the wall to flip the switch, plunging the room into darkness. There's an awkward dance she can't see as the Doctor struggles with what to do next. She misses out on the way he steps closer then backward toward the door, ruffling his hair in a frustrated gesture of indecision. It's a one bedroom flat and part of him knows he should be the gentleman and offer to retreat to the couch in the other room.

But there's also a strong, more recently aquired part of him that is thrilled at the mere possibility of being close to Rose, even in sleep. It's not as though they haven't shared a bed before... in another life. However, given the past twenty-four hours he never expected such an offer so soon. The Time Lord in him reminds of propriety but humanity is weak, he learns, as Donna's voice in his head wins out in the end.

"Are you - " Rose begins impatiently but cuts off with a hitch of breath as the mattress suddenly dips beside her and she registers his proximity.

"This okay?" he questions because maybe he misread the signals after all. Humans are, of course, the most confusing creatures.

Rose licks suddenly dry lips and nods. Then, remembering he may not see the gesture, speaks. "Yeah, it's alright."

To prove her point, she reaches out, fumbling in the dark for his hand as he settles under the covers. When she finds it, he squeezes her fingers lightly - reassuringly or being reassured, she doesn't know, but it makes her smile a little anyway.

There's quiet for a long while and stillness, but she can tell his breathing isn't slowing any more than hers. As her eyes adjust, she can see his eyes are still open, downcast and watching their hands clasped together on the blanket.

"Can't sleep?" Rose asks, her voice timidly reaching out between them.

"This body is tired but my mind…" he attempts in explanation. "It will take a while for sleeping to become natural."

"Do you think it will ever become natural?"

The Doctor sighs heavily. "I really don't know," he answers honestly.

His voice is forlorn and she wishes immediately she hadn't asked.

"I think I'm still running on adrenaline," Rose guesses, hoping to redirect his gloomy thoughts.

The Doctor grabs her arm suddenly and licks the inside of her wrist without preamble. "Adrenaline is a bit on the higher side," he informs her thoughtfully. "But the endorphins you're generating due to our close proximity should outweigh the stimulant's effect."

She regards him skeptically, "All that from licking me?"

He grins and points to his temple, smugness radiating from him in droves. "Part Time Lord."

"And part human," she retorts playfully. "Which is why we should be sleeping."

"I'm both where it counts," he insists airily.

Rose knits her brows in confusion. "How d'you mean?"

"I've got a Time Lord brain and a human heart," the Doctor oversimplifies lightly, because he likes the poetic effect. "You're stuck with a genius who desperately loves you, Rose Tyler."

"Still," she meets his smirk with an overly casual shrug. "Stuck with you. That's not so bad."

"Not bad at all," he banters easily and pulls her hand to brush a quick kiss to her knuckles.

Rose shivers at the simple romantic gesture and laughs because this is so easy, too easy, to fall back into old familiar ways. To joke and flirt with him, pretend the past three years didn't happen the way they did, and pick up right where they left off.

She knows the Rose from back then would be bitter right now and give in to the temptation to pout and dwell on what she didn't get for all that she accomplished. Those feelings are still there, burning at the edges of her mind, but she's trying to overcome them and live in this moment because it's all she has. And she knows too well even this happiness could be snatched away from her in an instant.

"You know," she tells him, somewhere between saucy and serious. "Eventually we're going to have to say something new."

The Doctor's eyes widen and he catapults his body upward almost violently, so impossibly fast that she barely has time to gasp in surprise.

"You're right. Oh, Rose, you are so right. New words for a new beginning." He grabs both her hands and, even as she shivers from the touch still cold from the rain, urges her to sit up with him. He clears his throat quietly and Rose wonders what she's gotten herself in for.

"I can't promise this will be easy," he confesses bravely. "Because it won't. There's never been a human-Time Lord metacrisis before and it's certainly never happened to me. I don't know who I'm going to be in the end or what might change in the future. We share a past, but yesterday our paths diverged and I know part of you will always wonder about the part of me that walked away."

She opens her mouth to speak but he places his fingers gently over her lips before pressing on. "But, Rose Tyler, I'm the lucky one. because I'm here with you now and the why doesn't matter to me as much as the fact that I am. But I know it matters to you. That this is complicated and not the way you pictured it."

Rose moves her lips against his fingers again to protest, but he applies gentle pressure in a silent request to let him continue. "The only thing I know for sure right now is that I love you. And I will do anything to make the one life we can spend together the best it can possibly be."

These words ring of vows and it feels at once too soon and long overdue. The raw hope and honesty in his voice seems too significant for a late night bedroom chat born of insomnia. And yet, it is entirely appropriate for them and the constancy of their mutual adoration through regenerations, distance, and catastrophe stirs up undeniable truths in her heart.

At his pause, she takes the opportunity to remove his hand, a brazen spark lighting in her eyes and a teasing lilt creeping into her voice. "Can I talk now?"

"Yes?" He eyes her warily, both apprehensive over what she might say and worried she didn't hear a word of his heartfelt speech.

"I love you too," she breathes, words heavy with the weight of their sentiment.

There doesn't seem a point in hiding them now. By crossing universes and risking her life to get back to the Doctor, she's already put herself out there to be hurt. The man before her now is willing to put his faith in them and she wants to return the favor.

Gathering up her hands again, the Doctor sighs profoundly, "I'm ecstatic to hear you say that, really." And he is, she'll never know just how much. "But I don't expect you to feel that way after just one day."

Rose rolls her eyes playfully with a scoff, "I felt that way after just one word."

The Doctor grins, no,  _beams_  at her. She can tell by the flash of white teeth and sparkle of elated eyes seen even in the darkness. The sudden, soppy urge to seal it with a kiss overwhelms Rose. The desire to finish more than a day's worth of teasing, promising, and reacquainting the same way it began: with an impulsive crash of lips. Like the multitudes of other people settling down to sleep tonight, she thinks the proverbial kiss goodnight may be just the thing to bring enough closure to their wayward thoughts to rest for a little while.

She's pleasantly surprised, then, when he leans forward into her space before she can broach the subject, warm breath entreating permission across her chin.

"Can I - ?" he manages in a thin whisper.

He leans closer slowly, haltingly, because as exciting as this is, it's also new. The Doctor has centuries of memories observing human interaction but becoming an active participant is altogether different. He can't see her properly and she's taking too long to answer. It's seconds. It's an eternity.

The air between them becomes heavy and electric. One heart pounds a frantic pulse in his chest but it sounds louder in his throat. Is he supposed to feel this dizzy or is this impermanent human form failing him already?

Rose is far too impatient for this clumsy dance so she meets him halfway. Just a touch of lips but there's a spark. She wonders vaguely, his words from earlier tumbling around in her brain, if that same fire would have burned before. There is a strange comfort in thinking this was always inevitable. This, though, is fairly perfect and real and happening right now. She wouldn't trade it for all the 'perhaps' in the world.

The Doctor accepts and responds to her chaste offering contentedly, sliding his mouth warmly over hers without pressing for more. They're knackered both and it wouldn't do to start something they couldn't finish. He doesn't complain when she pulls away slowly, leaving them both bereft and a little breathless.

"Tomorrow," Rose tells him with authority. "We can start on the rest. For now, there are one-and-a-half humans in this bed that need to sleep."

"Tomorrow," he agrees cheerfully as he lets her pull him back down to settle under the covers. He likes the idea despite himself. From Rose's lips it sounds less like a repetitive continuous progression of time and more like an adventure.

He repeats the word into her hair but she's already asleep.


	3. Normal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sounds like an adventure," the Doctor accuses brightly. Rose shrugs and flashes a grin, "Always is with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to beta T'Kirr for polishing my wayward words.

 

_I don't think they take me serious_

_Normal life makes me delirious_

* * *

  

Rose awakes groggy and drowsy, sleep lingering heavily in both body and mind. The Doctor is still there beside her - around her, really, as she is drawn up in his arms. She's sure she'll appreciate the warmth and contact more when she's closer to being alert.

"Hello," he says far too cheerily for her taste with an equally annoying bright smile.

"Mphgrr," she answers somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.

"That meant 'hello,' right?" the Doctor ponders aloud. "And 'I love you?'"

She glares up at him skeptically and he wonders if he's overstepped some invisible social line. These are words he could never say before, feelings he forced himself to repress. Saying them now is liberating, an expression of joy and freedom. He could shout it to the world if she asked. But he's starting to wonder if it is too much too soon. Can one say 'I love you' too many times?

Rose frowns grumpily, "Did you sleep _at all_?"

"Yes," he replies automatically. He did, in fact, and for a lot longer than he would have expected. But the rest has done wonders for this fragile body and he feels a little more like his old self today.

She turns her face further to bury between his shoulder and the pillow. Her complaint, therefore, comes out muffled. "Ugh, why aren't you tired still?"

"I told you, Rose Tyler," he patronizes softly. "Time Lord brain. Did good with a bit of sleep. Now I've had enough and I'm awake."

"Well  _some_  of us are not ready to face the day yet," she informs him with an air of danger that insists it would be best not to argue.

He smiles, remembering so many mornings spent on the TARDIS dragging Rose out of bed with the same reluctance. Back then, he was always in a hurry to whisk her away on some adventure or another just to be with her. Now, he has the distinct privilege of spending time with her in her bed and is more than happy to prolong the experience.

"There's no rush," he admits genuinely, because right now there is truly nowhere he'd rather be.

The Doctor runs a hand soothingly down her back, breathes in the scent of her hair, encourages her arms in their pursuit to encase him. He delights in her smirk he feels breaking out against his neck and the soft hum of sleepy contentment from the back of her throat. There are parts of this outcome that are not ideal but this moment wrapped up in Rose Tyler is sheer perfection.

Their snuggling is all fun and games until Rose shifts and her thigh brushes something decidedly male and human. There is a gasp and a stuttered apology before he scrambles off the bed and retreats to the bathroom before she can react. Deciding to give him due privacy, Rose hauls herself from the bed and trudges into the kitchen to start day one of her new old life.

She puts on water and digs through cabinets in her tiny kitchen to find them something to eat. The table is set up and the kettle is whistling when the Doctor joins her.

Breakfast is incredibly basic: tea and jam and some scones Jackie sent over earlier in the week (relatively speaking) that are miraculously still fresh. Rose doesn't tell him where they came from because she's sure if he knew her mother sent them he'd refuse and she wants him to eat. Two days alive and the only thing in his stomach has been chips. Maybe he really is her soul mate.

Sitting at the table across from him as they eat, she reflects on the mental checklist of tasks that must be completed so they can move forward. He'll need clothes of his own, toiletries and conveniences to make him comfortable in her flat. After all, she's not a man and she doesn't know what he might end up using on a daily basis. They'll have to arrange documentation, give him a proper name and paperwork to back it up. Eventually, he'll probably want a job too, at Torchwood or somewhere else. The list bears down on her until it's claustrophobic. The walls of limitation are closing in and she can't take it.

Rose slams her fists down on the table so hard it shakes. She screams, to the heavens and whoever will hear, "I don't want this!"

Catching the breath she didn't realize she was holding, the realization dawns that only the Doctor is there to hear her. He's staring at her with hurt showing plainly in his eyes.

"No, sorry, not you," she assures him quietly. "I mean this." She gestures vaguely at the room and it's clear he's completely lost as he's gaping at her with rapt confusion.

Rose exhales roughly and tries to explain, "I keep... I keep thinking of what we're gonna do next and it's everything I didn't want to do the first time I came here. Pretending to live a stupid, normal life after everything that's happened. This isn't where we were born, either of us. We don't exist here, so why should we pretend that we do?"

He is still a bit bewildered but catching on. He empathizes with her sentiments so much it almost hurts. What pains him more is daring to hope that maybe they want the same thing. He's promised himself not to push her into anything, to be open to whatever path Rose decided for them.

The Doctor swallows intently and reaches across the table to take her hand. He clasps it tightly until she meets his gaze. "What do you want?"

She throws up her free hand in a universal expression of uncertainty. "I don't know. Not that. Not settling and accepting we'll never have more. Can't we - can't we just make it up as we go along? Isn't that what we've always done?"

"Yeah," he says simply but his expression is bright and a little bit awed.

He smiles and she smiles, the excited mood infectious. For the first time, Rose really thinks _we can do this_ and she's inspired rather than resigned for what might come next.

"What do you think about Barcelona?" she blurts out suddenly, the first errant thought to come to mind. It's back to quoting themselves again but it feels right somehow. Then, because he's still the Doctor after all, she does feel the need to clarify. "The city, not the planet."

"Love Barcelona," he grins madly. "The mountains and the architecture and the sea - Rose, the  _sea_. Mediterranean beaches, oh you'll love those."

"Yeah?" she prompts, so overjoyed to hear his characteristic rambling again that she ambushes him with a tongue-in-teeth Rose Tyler smile that almost derails all previous thought.

"Yeah," he parrots absently, taking a moment to gather his wits. "And Catalan cuisine. Seafood from  _right there_  - fresh as you'll ever get. Olive oil like you've never tasted. And tapas - interesting little concept, tapas. When I was in Andalusia in the 16th Century - "

"Hold on," Rose chimes in, cutting him off. "You're taking credit for tapas too?"

" _Well_ , I may have suggested to some locals that a slice of bread makes a great barrier between food and those pesky fruit flies," he narrates proudly. "And my new friends may have spread the word around."

"Right," she giggles with the same skepticism always reserved for the Doctor's claims of historical grandeur. Her mind is buzzing but a few realities bring it slowly back to Earth. "Barcelona is definitely on the list. But maybe today we start somewhere a little closer. Just for practice."

A destination within the country won't require any passports. It means they can put off the questions of identity and occupation for a little while longer.

The Doctor nods his acceptance over the last sip of his tea. "What did you have in mind?"

"Not sure, really," she admits distractedly. "And I'm not sure we have to decide right now. We could just go and see where we end up."

"Sounds like an adventure," he accuses brightly.

She shrugs and flashes a grin, "Always is with you."

Rose phones in to Pete what she has just decided to call a "leave of absence" from Torchwood. It's vague enough to afford the time she needs to decide her next step but not permanent enough to close the door on the possibility. Given the situation, Pete accepts without any convincing, though he does mention Jackie is asking after her daughter every spare moment and he expects they'll come around soon. The 'or else' is left out but understood.

The Doctor hangs back in the kitchen and sees to cleaning up breakfast to give her some space. Although she does notice he's more pretending to tidy up than actually tidying up.

"We can't avoid my Mum forever," she reminds him once she's off the phone. With all this talk of travel and adventure she doesn't want him to think they're running away never to return.

"I never said we should," he replies almost as though he's insulted. While he may not relish certain aspects of time spent with Jackie Tyler, he's always known how important her mother is to Rose and has sworn to always make sure they are reunited safely. Metacrisis, near-apocalyptic doom, and parallel universes have done nothing to change that sentiment.

"And I want you to meet Tony."

He brightens instantly, "I'd love to meet Tony."

"Good," she chirps gladly. "But not today. Later."

"Sure."

"Good," she repeats unnecessarily.

"Brilliant," the Doctor adds with a playful smirk and she smiles in return because she remembers this game.

"Fantastic," Rose intones in vague reminiscence of his old self. "And even more so if we get going. We've completely run out of food and stuff, so..." she trails off, gesturing back toward the bedroom.

"Ladies first," he offers with a mock flourish.

Rose is taken aback. She regards him strangely. "Where did that come from?"

"Ah," he flushes as though he's been caught somehow. "Donna, probably. Got some Donna mixed in with the biological metacrisis."

"What else of Donna have you got?"

He shrugs, starting to follow her through the living area toward the bedroom. "Dunno, guess we'll see, though."

Rose turns to face him and smirks wickedly. "Not gonna start wearing my dresses are you?"

In response, he feigns offense. "And why not? Don't you think I'd look rather fetching in a pink top and skirted overalls?"

She rolls her eyes heavenward. "You're right. Who am I kidding? You'd 've done that anyway."

Having reached the small hallway adjoining rooms, the Doctor presses his advantage in the smaller space and pulls her toward him in an impromptu embrace. "I'll wear anything you like." He leans down and touches his nose playfully against hers. Because it's natural now. Because he can. "I was made for you," he whispers serenely.

"Don't say that," she snaps suddenly. He pulls back and winces at her commanding tone. Rose softens her next words. "That's a lot of pressure on both of us. There's more to you than just me. You were made to save the universe and you did."

He scoffs bitterly, "To commit genocide, you mean."

And just like that the mood is broken. She didn't mean to put off what was sure to be another lovely kiss, but she needs him to understand. Rose is still wrapped up in his arms and she grips him tighter to be sure he doesn't pull free.

"They were Daleks. You didn't have a choice," she surmises emphatically because, really, she believes that. But just for good measure she continues, stroking his cheek softly and urging him to meet her eyes. "You saved the TARDIS, too. It would have been destroyed, and Donna with it, if it weren't for you."

His eyes hold all the same ancient pain as before with new regret and uncertainty mixed in. He looks lost, and why shouldn't he be? His planet, the TARDIS, his enemies, and everything else he's ever known are gone. The compelling fear tugs at her chest that she may never be able to fill the cavernous space that's been ripped from his heart.

"I'm not a hero, Rose," he confesses glumly. "As much as you may want me to be."

She breathes in strength and courage from the scent of stardust and latent electricity all around her. Right now it's not about what she wants, although she's pretty sure that he's all she could ever want and more. That maybe, just maybe, he's someone that needs her, too.

"No, I just want you to be you," she professes with a stubborn sincerity, gently squeezing him closer. "We'll just have to find out who that is as we go."

The same as everyone, she thinks. The same as her, a far cry from the wide-eyed girl who followed him to the stars in the first place. As long as they're together, she feels like they will make it. Incomplete pieces of people that will somehow fit to make a whole.

The Doctor sighs and leans his forehead down heavily on hers. "Trillions. Billions upon trillions upon millions of galaxies - stars, planets, satellites and space stations, Rose Tyler. How, in the whole wide universe, was I lucky enough to find you?"

Heart beating frantically at the combination of warm touch and sweet words, she's surprised at the cheek she manages to cram into her response. "It was me that found you this time."

"Yes, you did," he whispers and she feels his smile bloom against her lips. " _Yes_."


	4. An Ordinary Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He points out the largest bell, the actual Big Ben, and each of his smaller friends, explaining the tones of each one, complete with anecdotes about their amazing journey to the top of the tower over a century and a half ago.

_He said: take my hand_

_Live while you can_

_Don't you see your dreams_

_Lie right in the palm of your hand_

* * *

 

"Don't you want to see if it's different inside?"

"How would I know? I've never been on the inside."

The Doctor shakes his head and clicks his tongue in mild reproof. "Lived your whole life in London and never set foot inside the Clock Tower."

"Not my  _whole_  life," Rose reminds him obstinately.

Her tone is light so he takes the more positive implication. "Have the TARDIS to thank for that."

She threads her arm around his and pulls him closer, their opposite shoulders better protected now under the umbrella. "Her too. But I was pretty sure I have you to thank."

He smiles indulgently and bends his elbow to encourage her to stay close.

Their plan for an excursion didn't take into account the rainy weather. After a brief discussion it was agreed: the pool of possible adventures was condensed to include only those indoors. A smattering of suggestions followed, mostly museums and monuments all vetoed by Rose. The clock tower affectionately known as Big Ben was a compromise. Although the Doctor did feel the need to point out that 'Big Ben' was actually the name of the bell that chimes on the hour, not the tower as a whole.

When they reach the main entrance to the Portcullis House on the Victoria Embankment, the tourist information is all closed up.

"There's no one here. Oh," she realizes belatedly. "Must be a bank holiday."

He looks encouraged rather than let down. "Even better."

Arms still locked, he pulls her around the corner along the perimeter of the palace until they reach what looks to be a service door, inset and slightly more discreet.

Rose stares up at him, aghast. "You wanna break in?"

Really, she shouldn't be surprised, but it's been a long time since traveling with him and she has to remember his creative interpretation of things like rules and authority.

"Oh, yes," he nods enthusiastically. "We'll have it all to ourselves. It'll be brilliant!"

The Doctor hands Rose the umbrella. She looks around to see if anyone's watching while she collapses it and tucks it away in her jacket. He produces the sonic screwdriver from his inside jacket pocket and spins it between his fingers with a flourish.

"Where'd you get that?" she gasps excitedly, face breaking out in a grin.

"Came with the clothes on my back," he fibs gracefully.

She smiles wider. "Nicked it, did you?"

He shrugs noncommittally.

She grabs it without thinking, holding the cold, familiar metallic weight in her hand. For a little while she just stares. The rain is still falling and their clothes are starting to get damp.

"Planning on doing something with that?"

Her head snaps up suddenly, startled out of her reverie. "No, it's just..."

It had been so long. His other self didn't use it at all in the chaos of the Crucible. The sonic was such a part of him, an inanimate acquaintance she thought she'd never meet again.

He seems to understand. Rolling forward on the balls of his feet, he leans forward to look over her. "Setting 437."

Rose gazes up at him in surprise and he nods his assent. She turns the dials slowly to find the setting he wants. Peeking up at him again when she's done, he motions toward the lock on the door.

"Are we in danger?" she wants to know.

He recoils in puzzlement. "What?"

"You only let me sonic things when we're in trouble."

The Doctor pretends to consider. "Congratulations, Rose Tyler. You saved the universe. You have now graduated to the next level of celestial exploration and can safely use the sonic screwdriver at any time under the strict supervision of your partner, the Doctor."

Her eyebrows shoot up and amusement crosses her face. "My partner?"

"Yes," he insists, regarding her seriously now. "That's what we are now. Together, supportive, equal. You want that, don't you?"

She licks dry lips and swallows before she can answer. "Yeah. Yes, definitely."

"Together, then."

He takes her hand in his and guides the sonic to the lock above the doorknob. She flicks the switch on the screwdriver and laughs in unconscious relief at the unmistakable whirring sound. The lock gives easily and in a flurry they scramble through the door, giggling madly.

It feels good to be spontaneous and crafty with him again. Even better when he presses her up against the door and snogs her without warning.  _This is different_ , she thinks and she most definitely means  _good_  different.

The Doctor grasps her face possessively as his tongue snakes out to claim her mouth in a hunger she is sure must be spurred on by excitement and adrenaline. His body cages hers as his kiss dominates unrelentingly. It's so sudden she can hardly keep up. She holds on scarcely, fingers digging into the fabric against his shoulders.

He pours all his joy and longing for her into the fiery clash of his mouth against hers. All his previous hesitation dissolves into the way his body presses solidly into the soft warmth of her curves. Rose is flushed, her skin hot and her lips so impossibly sweet. The rush of desire burning through his brain and out to his limbs is addictive.

Rose starts to think about this progressing further and as enticing a prospect as that is, she'd rather it not be here in this public, though deserted, place. Even so, she can't bring herself to stop after imagining so many daring escapades ending this very way. Relief and disappointment conflict when he pulls away first, his darkened gaze meeting hers briefly before he presses one last peck to her lips.

"Come on, then," he says cheerily, pulling her by the hand to follow him.

He's not unaffected, but his thrill for adventure seems to overpower the passion that blazed moments before.

"What was that for?" Rose feels compelled to ask.

She still remembers the Doctor that explained away any progress between them and would ignore meaningful moments once they'd passed. Part of her wants assurance she didn't just imagine him ambushing her with their most desirous kiss to date.

He shrugs easily and eyes her over his shoulder. "You did so well opening that lock, Rose Tyler. Just thought I should show you my appreciation." He waggles his eyebrows for good measure.

Rose giggles and feels silly when she blushes like a little schoolgirl. But she supposes that's just the drippy sort of person love turns her into. She does wonder how they're going to get anything done when she's secretly hoping he'll reward her the same way every time she does something insignificantly right in his eyes.

Even though the tower is closed to tours, there are still staff and security wandering around the hallways. There are several stops and starts, hiding around corners and waiting for people to pass, before the intruders finally make it to the stairs leading up the tower. Rose hears the quarter bells chime distantly at the beginning of their ascent and again about halfway through. She flashes him a secret smile each time. They climb carefully and quietly the long, long way, pausing several times to admire the dizzying spiral of the staircase above and below, until finally they reach the mechanism room.

The quarter bells sound once more, louder this time from the floor above them. The Doctor immerses himself in studying the moving parts of the Westminster Clock, babbling a running commentary on its mechanics and history that seems to be obliquely directed at Rose but mostly to himself. He can sense when she starts to get restless and ready to move on, a perception he's sure must have come from Donna.

Together they move up to the chamber below the belfry, craning their necks to look at the presently silent bells above. He points out the largest bell, the actual Big Ben, and each of his smaller friends, explaining the tones of each one, complete with anecdotes about their amazing journey to the top of the tower over a century and a half ago. There's still at least one more thing to see, so after he's talked her ear off thoroughly, he leads them toward the edge of the room.

The Doctor flashes the sonic again to unlock a door and suddenly they're behind one of the clock faces, frosted glass luminous despite the gloomy weather. There's some scant scaffolding with a small platform that suggests restoration work, but otherwise the passage is mostly an ethereal backlit white, highlighting the stark contrast of bold iron features on the outer face. The Doctor hangs back as she enters the room, watching her inquisitive reactions as she takes everything in.

"You've already had a close up view of the other side, courtesy of the good Captain," he recalls ambivalently.

He had been so afraid then that she would go swanning off with the time-traveling con man and leave him behind. With a sideways look in her direction, the Doctor can't help the surge of male pride that assaults him at the thought that she's here with  _him_  now.

Rose frowns noticeably, "We need to talk about Jack."

The Doctor swallows hard, his hand flying up to the back of his neck to fuss with his hair. Her look tells him she recognizes the nervous gesture immediately. They haven't properly discussed all the consequences of Satellite Five yet. She does need to know.  _Eventually._

"Yes," he agrees with some trepidation. "And we will."

Rose plops down on a sturdy-looking bar of scaffolding and waits, crossing her arms and eyeing him expectantly. With a sigh he follows, kneeling before her. He untangles her wrists from her elbows and takes her hands, a common habit that grounds him whenever he is doubtful about how she will react.

"I did tell you about the Vortex," he reminds her carefully, looking down at their hands instead of her face.

Rose nods slowly. "Bad Wolf. You didn't just sing a song."

His eyes dart up to look at her. "No, that was you. A terrible and beautiful song."

She sobers quickly and tears threaten before she can fight them. "I'm sorry."

"No," he says sternly, stroking her chin softly in contrast to his tone. "Don't apologize. Your heart was in the right place, Rose. You didn't know what you were doing."

She levels him with a determined stare. "Are you saying I'm responsible for Jack?"

He inhales sharply, daunted by the task of confirming her suspicion. "You wanted to save him. And you did - permanently. You couldn't control it."

"That's why he came back on the Crucible. When he was supposed to be dead," she pieces together quietly.

"He doesn't fault you for it," the Doctor assures her honestly. "You remember how happy he was to see you again. He loves you."

As much as it irks him to say it he knows it's what Rose needs to hear. She sniffs and seems mildly comforted but not as much as he hoped.

"I wish I'd known when we saw him again," she laments softly. "I would have owned up to it properly."

"Rose, there's nothing to apologize for," he presses in a voice that's firm but kind. "Jack told me himself he's not angry, and even if he were it would be at me. Not you. Never you."

"I know," her lips quirk up slightly but it's clear she's still upset. "He's the greatest friend, really. I miss him."

"I'm sorry," he says, taking his turn to apologize.

Rose pokes him hard in the soft flesh between his shoulder and his chest, "What did I say about that?"

He winces and pulls her hand away. "I just mean I wish we could pop by for a visit," he explains. Then adds quickly, "For you."

"At least I know he's all right," she concedes with a little more levity.

"Defending the Earth," he agrees lightly.

Her trademark grin makes an appearance. "And sleeping with half its population."

The Doctor snickers, "Only half?"

She shrugs thoughtfully. "I figure he's working his way through."

Without warning the quarter bells in the tower above start chiming, immediately followed by the Great Bell himself, the impressive clamour reverberating through the ground and tempting both of them to cover their ears. Each ring is a reminder of the steadfast crawl of mortal time. The Doctor finds he doesn't mind so much, though, huddled together with a graciously smiling Rose Tyler.

The din quiets after only four chimes bellowing the hour. Feeling their time alone is probably threatened with each passing moment, he helps Rose stand with him and motions toward the stairs. The adventure has served its purpose and it's some sort of miracle they've remained undiscovered this long.

"Come on, let's go grab a bite. Fancy some chips?"

"You have to eat something other than chips. It's fifty percent of everything you've ever eaten at this point."

"Hmm. Indian curry, then?"

"Yeah, I know just the place."

On their way out they get sloppy. A guard spots them and barks typical threats about proper clearance and restricted areas.

The Doctor meets her eyes. He takes her hand. He says one word. Just one.

He says, "Run."


End file.
